


Durability

by Aviantei



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Honestly I have terrible taste in anime guys, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Ship's there if you squint, Teppei is a cinnamon roll and Hanamiya is disgusted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 14:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: [One Shot] When Makoto receives the phone call from an unfamiliar number, he almost considers not answering it. On a whim, he does, and the voice on the other line is almost enough to make him choke. "Hey, it's Kiyoshi Teppei. I was hoping that maybe I could stop by after practice today. There's something I want to tell you…" [Sorta MakotoxTeppei]





	Durability

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was originally posted on fanfiction.net on July 29, 2014. I have horrible taste in men and I love Hanamiya. Take your Hanamiya/Teppei nonsense and run with it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Durability**

By: Aviantei

A _Kuroko no Basuke_ One Shot

* * *

There’s nothing that pisses of Hanamiya Makoto more than the way that Kiyoshi Teppei cares for his teammates. He’s always been like that, having enough energy to support his team and still come out of the game smiling, even if they lose. That’s probably why Makoto decided to do it—make it so that Teppei’s leg got broken—because after years of dealing with that shit, it just had to end.

Not that he’d ever admit such a thing was his fault. What dumbass would believe that?

So in the end, seeing Teppei come back onto the court, _willingly_ throwing himself up to be the punching bag in the second match between Seirin and Kirisaki Dai Ichi… well, that’s really the last straw. If that idiot wants to be beaten to shreds, that’s fine by Makoto’s standards.

Besides, he wants to see Teppei broken anyway.

The real problem is that Teppei walks away intact. Sure, he’s bruised and a little worse for wear, but it isn’t enough. Makoto is stuck. If his team can’t even beat Teppei’s anymore, there was no way to really break him down. At least, not in terms of a direct confrontation.

So Makoto doesn’t do anything in this moment. He lets the game end, lets the scores be in charge of everything. Saying some petty words about revenge doesn’t amount to much anyway. Besides, everything is out in the open now, and anything he did would be noticeable. Especially with the dumbass captain of Seirin attempting to glare bullets into Makoto’s skull.

Well, no matter.

It isn’t like it’s easy, though. There’s a part of him that wants to strangle Teppei right then and there. Forget that he won’t be able to get away with it. Forget the consequences if by some miracle that he does. It wouldn’t be worth anything, though. Makoto knows that, somehow, Teppei would still manage to grin like an idiot, even when the air would refuse to make it through his windpipe.

Makoto heads back to the locker room once the thought is gone, leaves Seirin to their celebration. As coach, he should say something to his team, the one that just lost. He doesn’t. They will get the message clear enough whenever he triples their training regimens in the upcoming week.

Except for some reason, the thought doesn’t leave him. Makoto is left thinking about Seirin, their idiotic faces as they all celebrated their victory. He can’t tell what makes them so special. How can Teppei bother to smile around them? How can he just go and put his fucking _life_ on the _line_ for them?

“Just what the hell makes them so special anyway?!”

He accentuates the shout with a punch against one of the lockers, startling the rest of Kirisaki Dai Ichi that is attempting to pack up. The normal reaction would be to ask about the problem, but none of them do. They know better than to bother their coach and captain at time like this.

Makoto turns to his team, not even bothering to compose himself.

“We’re going to defeat them next year,” he says. “We’re going to absolutely _obliterate_ them.”

The resounding “Yes, sir!” Makoto receives is the best thing he has heard all day.

* * *

It occurs to Makoto that things have actually been like this for a while. Back in middle school, they were Kings, at least until the Generation of Miracles showed up. Putting that aside, though, it doesn’t change the fact that in that time, they had been rivals. And while there were three other Kings aside from Makoto, two aside from Teppei, the latter was the only one that seemed to matter.

Makoto doesn’t know where it started. His interest in the others that were being considered the Uncrowned Generals at the time had only been natural. After all, he had been put into a group with people he didn’t even associate with on a regular basis. But through the years, the interest in Teppei was the only one that seemed to stick.

And the way he handled the first year of high school, the way he returned…

Makoto decides that it would be best if Teppei would just _break_.

That much is evident when it came to his team. Sure, there were third years that were going to graduate before they could be useful, but that doesn’t bring practice to a stop. They need to be better. Not just in cheating, but all around in terms of skill. Kirisaki Dai Ichi has already lost to Seirin twice. There will not be a third time. He won’t allow it.

There has to be something that they could do, though. Teppei is too strong to be beaten down on his own, no matter how many people he’s cornered by. They can’t afford to take the bait and focus on him again in the future, no matter how much Teppei will try to protect his teammates.

_That’s it._

_Because his teammates are so precious to him, if we destroy them—_

Makoto doesn’t want to wait, but he knows he had to. It’s just so perfect, though. If Teppei can’t protect his teammates, then he’d probably lose his will. Except it would have to wait, so they could ruin him on the court, make it the perfect revenge for everything that’s happened, everything that Teppei had made him _feel_—

Just thinking about it makes Makoto laugh. None of his teammates take any measures to stop him.

* * *

When Makoto receives the phone call from an unfamiliar number, he almost considers not answering it. On a whim, he does, and the voice on the other line is almost enough to make him choke.

“Hey, it’s Kiyoshi Teppei,” the idiot himself says. Makoto doesn’t know how Teppei got his number—probably by asking one of the Kirisaki Dai Ichi members or something, because he would _seriously be that stupid_. He also doesn’t know what to say, but he highly doubts that grinding one’s teeth counts as an answer. “I was hoping that maybe I could stop by after practice today. There’s something I want to tell you…”

And so, Makoto agrees. He doesn’t know _why_ he does it, but it’s done and there’s no point in trying to change that now. It’s been _months_ since he’s seen Teppei, not bothering to talk to him after Kirisaki Dai Ichi’s loss. Now, after he’s dismissed his team from practice, Makoto sees Teppei, standing on the outskirts of his gym and waiting patiently.

“How the hell did you manage to skip out on your own practice, dumbass?” Makoto asks, and the sneer in his voice is perfect. If there’s anyone that he might dislike _more_ than Teppei, it’s Seirin’s coach, probably followed shortly by its Captain. Makoto’s animosity aside, he knows Aida Riko isn’t the type of coach to let her team members out of practice for any trivial thing, and Teppei is far too much of a goody two shoes to ever skip.

So then it must be important.

Teppei doesn’t bat an eye at the insult, just laughs. “Like I said, I had something to tell you. Would you mind if I sit down?” he asks. Makoto doesn’t answer, but Teppei sits down on one of the school’s outdoor benches anyway. He puts hand on one of his knees, and it’s _the_ knee that Makoto sent his teammates to destroy back in their first match. It’s any wonder that the center can still walk anymore.

“Yeah, whatever, just get on with it.” Makoto doesn’t sit, but he leans against a nearby tree anyway. After all, he’s been hard at training, too, and standing up for too long is stupid for his legs that need some time to rest anyway.

Besides, being able to stand over Teppei has its advantages, too.

“I wanted to apologize,” Teppei says, and Makoto has to repress a snort. Just what would Teppei need to apologize for anyway? If there’s anyone that needs to apologize, it would be Makoto, and he’s not about to do that anytime soon. “I know you swore you were going to beat me, but I’m just not going to be around for you to play against next year.”

Makoto stands up straight, actually bothering to look at Teppei now. There’s a strangled sound that gets caught in the Kirisaki Dai Ichi captain’s throat that isn’t even close to forming a real word. Instead of speaking, Makoto realizes how Teppei’s sitting, how his fingers are forming wrinkles in the pants over his knee, the sad expression on his face.

Of course he puts it together, his IQ being what it is, but he hopes that for once he’s _wrong_—

“You see, when I got injured last year—” even Teppei doesn’t say anything that would make it sound like anything like an accident, like it wasn’t done on _purpose_. “—I had two options. Either I do surgery and rehab and be able to play basketball when I got out of high school, or just take the rehabilitation and be able to play one more year. I’d say it’s rather obvious which one I chose.”

Makoto almost breaks right then and there. That’s not how this was supposed to go. Makoto was supposed to be the one that put the final nail in the coffin, the one that won and beat out Kiyoshi Teppei at this game. He was supposed to be the destroyer, and now he finds out that it’s all _useless_ because _Teppei is already broken_.

“So like I said, I’m sorry,” Teppei continues and he truly does sound like it. “It just occurred to me how much this concerned you. I mean, I guess it always concerned you, but I didn’t think that you would care about the consequences.” Teppei laughs, but it’s not a boisterous as usual. “Although, I guess that it’s better I’m telling you now instead of you ending up in a game and not seeing me on the bench, huh, Hanamiya?”

It’s then that Makoto realizes that he _does_ care about the consequences, and he never thought that he would. After all, it was all a power play in the end. The consequence would be that Teppei would never be able to play basketball again because he was just so _broken_, and that was the goal. There wouldn’t be ramifications, either, because as hard at Seirin’s idiot captain tried, there just wasn’t any _proof_.

But what if there just weren’t any consequences because Teppei had never bothered to pursue them?

“You _dumbass_,” Makoto says, and he hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. Sure, there’s anger in it, but there just isn’t any _malice_. In that moment, he’s frustrated and something almost close to desperate, and he _doesn’t know why_. “What made you think that was okay?! You could have been fine if you just didn’t _play_—”

“Would you have been satisfied by that?” Teppei asks, and Makoto knows that the answer is no. Teppei seems to know as well, considering he doesn’t wait for a response. “I wanted to play with my team. I wanted to protect them. That’s why I _knew_ it was okay.”

“Why?!” Makoto screams. It’s at this point that he knows that there’s no chance of regaining his calm, so he just lets it all go. “Why do you care about them so much?!”

_Why do you care about them and not me?_

The thought shocks him—more than his feelings, more than Teppei’s words. He had never considered it that way, but now it all seems too obvious, such a cliché, such a _fucking stupid reason_. He’s too busy concerned about the _person_ to care about the _sex_, because that’s such a stupid reason anyway. Besides, all of this, every single thing has been because—

_What are you, a fucking child?_

“Hanamiya, I…” Teppei says, and it’s the first time he hesitates. Makoto wonders if they’ve come to the same conclusion or if the center is just forgetting what he meant to say. “They’re my teammates, of course I care about them. It’s only natural to care for your friends.”

Makoto scoffs, even if it’s only half as meaningful as it could be. “How long _do_ you have?” he asks, and he tries to convince himself that he’s only curious about the damage that he’s caused, and nothing more. It doesn’t _work_, but at least he tries.

“I’ll probably be able to make it through Inter High next year, and that’s about it.”

“Then play me. Right now. One on one.”

There words are out of his mouth before Makoto can stop himself, and Teppei nods before he can take them back. Teppei stands up, and they’re heading back to the gym. Makoto wonders if this is going to make the center’s knee any worse, but pushes it away. This is what he wanted after all. To be able to destroy him at what he loves.

Makoto doesn’t bother to cheat when they play. That doesn’t work against Teppei anyway. What he does instead is watch, seeing how Teppei has adjusted his play style, how he’s more careful than the Kirisaki Dai Ichi match that there’s no one to protect, how he keeps his weight off his injured leg whenever he needs to.

Despite that, Makoto’s able to pull off a victory, even if he is a bit distracted. Furthermore, Teppei doesn’t seem to mind that he’s just lost. If anything, he looks satisfied, relieved even. The same can’t be said for Makoto, even though he should be. If anything, he just feels more frustrated than before.

“That was a pretty good game,” Teppei says once he catches his breath. He smiles, and Makoto has to look away. “You’re a very good player, Hanamiya. We were lucky that we beat you.”

Makoto doesn’t like it, the way that Teppei laughs everything off. The idiot’s joking around, almost like Makoto _didn’t_ break his leg and send him into the hospital for a year. Like he didn’t wreck his career, like he’ll never be able to play basketball again. Makoto doesn’t even bother to listen, he just ignores Teppei and heads home, not even bothering to lock the gymnasium behind him.

If he ever wants to get anywhere, Makoto’s going to just have to forget about Teppei and leave it at that.

* * *

Makoto turns that idea into a promise, and he sticks to it. The rest of this team doesn’t notice, doesn’t even catch it. He pushes them in practice as hard as always, even if it’s for a different reason. After all, beating Seirin is still a valid goal, even if they’ll have a different center the next year. Besides, Makoto’s almost a third year. This is his last chance to coach Kirisaki Dai Ichi to victory.

Despite his determination, Makoto finds the idea of forgetting Teppei difficult. He knows that in years he’ll struggle to remember, although it may take longer than most with his memory skills. But for now, Kiyoshi Teppei keeps digging into his thoughts, like some sort of disease. Sometimes it’s just the idea of him, others it’s memories, from both of their matches, from middle school, from his appearance at Kirisaki Dai Ichi’s gymnasium.

Makoto remembers that Teppei called him, and his number should still be in his phone’s memory.

He doesn’t call it.

He thinks about it, though, and that’s enough to make him sick. Every now and then, Makoto flips open his phone and wonders what would happen if he called, what Teppei would say. Hell, Makoto doesn’t even know what _he_ would say, which is part of the idea that stops him. The other part is that he’s supposed to be _done_, and Kiyoshi Teppei shouldn’t be anywhere near his thoughts.

That doesn’t make it stop, though, and Makoto considers calling just so he can tell Teppei that it’s over. Although, what’s over is really in question. They’ve never been friends, but rivals is close enough. However, Teppei brought an end to whatever semblance of “rivals” that they had with their last conversation.

Which makes it all the more infuriating that Makoto’s still so hung up on him. Teppei’s probably moved on, enjoying his life even if he is now just an ordinary high school boy. Makoto should be throwing himself into the rest of his basketball career, maybe even entrance exams for university—though they’ll surely be a breeze—but instead the only thing he can focus on is _Teppei, Teppei, Teppei—_

For whatever reason, Teppei’s number shows up on the call screen of Makoto’s phone again. It’s not entered into his contacts list, but he knows it anyway. He wants to ignore it, but the idiot will surely leave a message, maybe even call again, and then this whole mess will never end. So he answers it.

“Listen, dipshit—” Makoto says.

“Hey, Hanamiya, it’s Kiyoshi Teppei again,” the idiot responds, like the rude greeting he’s received doesn’t matter. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what I said before. I know there’s no way to make up for not being able to be your rival anymore, but I had a thought. Why don’t we try being friends?”

Makoto goes from wishing he can throttle people on the other end of the phone to stopping in the middle of his furious pacing, saving his carpet from forming a trench. It’s such a ridiculous idea, one that could never really work, and yet, he almost says yes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he says instead. The only reason he isn’t yelling is because he doesn’t want to make a scene in his own house. The last thing Makoto needs right now is his mother bursting into the room and screaming at him for screaming. “Why do you… What even goes on in your head, dumbass? How can you just ask to be friends like that? I _broke your leg_, you dumb fuck, what makes you think I want anything to do with you?

“Ugh, why do you always, _always_ ruin my plans?!”

Makoto makes sure to stop himself there, before he says anything else. Good thing Teppei’s such an idiot, or he might end up catching on. Sure enough, there’s a silence of words, although Makoto’s attempt to catch his breath is making its own racket.

“So…” Teppei ventures, a bit cautious, “is that a no?”

Makoto scoffs. “You must be free for a bit since the Winter Cup concluded, right?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, because he already knows it. “I’ll be free for a few days over our winter break. Give me your schedule.”


End file.
